


Family Ties

by popfly



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Gapfillerpalooza, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-22
Updated: 2004-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gapfiller for season one, episode four. Michael takes a little time to appreciate his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Ties

I rubbed my chest with my towel and stared solemnly into the darkness of my gym locker. The locker room seemed quiet without Ted there. Which was a strange thought to have since Ted was a quiet guy. But everyone else was louder when he was around. Emmett was more animated – if that was possible – when Ted was around. Emmett would loudly proclaim that some guy was hot and Ted would shush him while darting glances at said guy. But instead Emmett dressed quietly, not even noticing when a hot guy walked past in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs.

I sighed heavily and Emmett looked up. We exchanged sympathetic smiles and Emmett closed his locker and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“I’ve got to get to the store,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to my temple. I nodded and he stepped away, swinging the strap of his bag over his head. I watched him walk away and went back to getting dressed.

My shirt was wrinkled from being stuffed into my duffel bag, and I smoothed it as best I could before pulling it on. When I got my head through the neckline Brian was standing beside me.

“How was he?” I asked, referring to the guy Brian had followed out of the steam room before I’d gone to shower.

Brian just shrugged and dried off his face. It never failed to amaze me that no matter how dire a situation, Brian always had the time and the energy to fuck some random guy. Fucking Brian.

I threw my things into my bag and shut my locker door. “I’m going to the diner to get something for Ted’s mom, then I’m going to work for a little while and then I’m going to the hospital. I’ll call you if anything’s changed.”

Brian’s hand stilled as he was putting on his deodorant and his jaw clenched. He looked down at the floor and then back up at me. “Yeah, do that.” He put the cap back on his Old Spice and dropped it into his bag. I lifted mine off of the bench and started to walk away.

“Actually, Mikey?”

I turned around and Brian was staring at the bank of lockers in front of him.

“Call me either way?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

He swung his eyes to mine and nodded once, and I thought that if people could see the look on his face right at that moment they’d never accuse him of being heartless ever again. I came forward and gave him a kiss, and he touched his forehead to mine briefly before pushing me away. I backed away, wiping my eyes, and then I left.

I wanted to pick something up for Ted’s mom, I figured it was the least I could do, the hospital food was shit even compared to the diner food, but I also wanted to see my mom. I was feeling shaky and worried and I just needed to see her.

When I came in she was behind the counter taking dishes off of the chipped Formica and dumping them noisily into a dishpan. I stopped in front of the register and watched her, feeling slightly better already. Even here in the diner, with the smell of grease in the air and the clatter of cheap forks on cheap plates I felt at home. I had figured out a long time ago that it was because she was there.

She smiled at a customer and brushed her nose with her hand, squinting her eyes and wiggling her fingers in the air. My heart clenched and I felt a sudden rush of affection for my mother who, despite her tendency to be brash and overbearing, loved me more than anyone in the entire world.

She looked up and saw me, her face breaking out in a smile, and she waved, her bangles jingling. She dropped the last of the silverware in the tub and flicked at her nose again, coming around the counter.

She looked me over and propped a hand on her hip. “What?”

“Just this thing you do with your hands,” I said, demonstrating. “Like this.”

She snapped her gum and grinned a little. “I do that, huh?”

I nodded, shuffling my feet on the worn out linoleum. “Yeah, you do.”

“Well, you should know.” She giggled, and my chest swelled again. My mother. Standing there in her “Spank Me” tee shirt and her apron covered in buttons, chewing away on her gum and laughing her hoarse, harsh laugh. I didn’t feel so shaky anymore.

“Yeah.” I looked down, thinking about Ted and his mother again. About how my mom would feel if it was me in that hospital bed. I took a deep breath and braced myself on the counter. Then Ma put her hand on mine. It was warm, and even the press of her rings on my knuckles was comforting.

“People wake up from comas sweetheart,” she said, in that tone that made you want to believe so badly.

“Yeah, sure.”

Ma pulled back and put her hand on her hip again. “Your Uncle Vic, how long was he in his?”

I thought back to that time. It had been rough on all of us. “Nine days?”

“Ten,” she corrected, pointing at me. “And I thought I’d lost him.” She sounded choked up, but she composed herself quickly. “I couldn’t tell your grandmother it was AIDS at the time, ‘cause she couldn’t have dealt with it.”

I shook my head. My grandmother had still had a breakdown when Ma had finally told her.

“I wanted to hear all about the white light and the tunnel, and did Aunt Theresa get to heaven.” Ma pressed her hand over her heart and looked faraway for a moment. Then she rolled her eyes and gave a short laugh. “First words out of his mouth?” She held her hand to her cheek and blinked at me, doing her best impression of Uncle Vic. “’Did I miss the Golden Globes?’” She laughed again and I chuckled with her, but it was sad, and she caught that.

She put her hand back on mine and I sighed. “How is he?”

I shook my head. “The same. No change.” I pulled my shoulders back, trying to push away the melancholy. “I’m going to go back a little later, I thought I’d take something to his mom.”

Ma looked like she was going to cry for a moment and then she came around the corner and grabbed my face in her hands, the metal of her bracelets cool against my jaw, and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. She held me so tight I thought I’d have bruises in the shape of fingertips on my cheeks when she finally pulled away. She turned her back and sidestepped the counter.

“What was that for?” I asked. She waved a hand over her shoulder and took a to-go container from the top shelf.

“Turkey meatloaf,” she said, ignoring my question. “Lemon bars.” She grabbed the display stand they were in and turned away again. “They’re great today.”

She started filling the container with food and I just stood and watched. When she was done she held it out to me but didn’t let go when I grabbed it.

“You’re a good man, Michael. I’m so proud of you.”

“You say that all the time, Ma.”

“And I mean it all the time. Don’t ever let anyone tell you anything different you got me?” She patted my cheek the way she’s been doing for years and I smiled. I gave her a kiss and I took the food and I watched her lift the hem of her apron to dab at the corner of her eye.

“Hey, Ma?”

She raised her eyebrows at me and I swallowed down a lump in my throat. She stood in the middle of the diner, where she’d doled out advice with the Pink Plate special for as long as I could remember, and I wondered if she ever felt taken for granted.

“You’re a good woman.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Her eyes welled up and she pressed a hand to her heart. “Shit, Michael, get the fuck out of here before you have me causing a scene. I can’t cry off all of my mascara, I have four hours until I get off.”

I just nodded, holding the Styrofoam box to my chest, and turned to push through the glass door and out onto the sidewalk. She was still sniffling behind me.


End file.
